Fingerpaints on Kamino
by Krad-Eelav
Summary: (Republic Commando) Kal Skirata decides that his boys need a day off from the training on Kamino, and plans a day of creativity for them. Not all of the Cuy'Val Dar agrees ...


**A/N**: inspired by the one line in True Colors where one of Delta mentioned something about fingerpaints. Then there's also the hilarity of Kal and Walon arguing about everything on Kamino including the colors of the mess hall.

I really just can't get enough of those two.

"Kal," asked Mereel with wide round eyes, "What's that?"

Skirata had his entourage of Nulls trailing behind him, all fixed on the four canisters that he held. He definitely owed Jango one for smuggling them in, but even the hard-bitten bounty hunter had let out a laugh at what his plans were.

"Paint cans, son. It's high time that we take a stab at more creativity than different ways of slicing the terminals."

"I don't understand." Ordo was the one holding the brushes like they were an exotic plant species. To the three-year-old soldier who knew nothing about the arts, it basically was. Skirata kicked himself for not thinking of this sooner. Just because he was training commandos didn't mean he couldn't splurge on them like any doting father.

"One thing at a time; it's easier if I show it to you ad'ike." The mess hall doors opened with a hiss, and he nodded with satisfaction. It was the perfect place for a little spontaneity: public enough it'd annoy the aiwa-bait, but wouldn't interfere with any drills. "Ord'ika, stick those brushes on the table, will you? We won't be needing those yet."

As the clone obeyed, he set down the paints with a thunk beside one wall, smiling as the others crowded around with curiosity. Taking his knife out, Skirata pried the lid off of the blue can, peeling off his gloves as he explained.

"Remember my navigating lesson a few days ago, where we drew signs on the dirt?" A chorus of nods answered his question. "This is basically the same thing, except for fun, and you can draw whatever the shab you want. Oh, and you just use your fingers."

Jaing stared past him with that defocused look that he was so used to by now, swinging his legs off the table. "Will it be messy?"

Skirata chucked, dipping his finger generously into the paint and flicking it at the wall, spraying globs of liquid over the flat surface. "Son, that's the point. Make it as messy and spectacular as you want it."

With that, the Nulls needed no encouragement as they dove on the other cans that he quickly opened - almost attacking the wall with innocent glee. Mereel in particular was splashing his whole section in shades of yellow and red - occasionally planting stubby fingers on Ordo's neat square of blue. Prudii was off to the side experimenting with color mixing - utterly fascinated with a few particular shades of green, and so on.

Kal hoisted a few of them on his shoulders to reach all the way up to his height; they weren't lacking on ambition even at their age; and seeing the sterile white walls being defaced bit by bit brought a gigantic grin on his face.

"Wayii, what do we have over here?" Mij Gilamar's familiar drawl preceded his lanky figure, still clad in the same sand-gold armor that Skirata had. "Fingerpaints? Kal, you're a genius."

Skirata shrugged, inordinately pleased as he watched on; several of them had organized into teams to make a gigantic Mythosaur skull (if slightly lopsided). "They had a good time with the wayfinding lessons earlier, and -"

The slight but sudden frown on Mij's face made him turn around, just in time to see Vau stalk in, looking all for the world like an annoyed cat just woken out of a nap.

"I positively can't wait to hear the explanation for this." The acid dripping off of his voice could corrode a starship.

"It's improving their hand-eye coordination and it annoys the aiwa-bait. There, that's your explanation." Skirata shot back, annoyed at just how fast the shabuir could press his buttons. Ordo looked up at Kal with concerned eyes, glancing over at Vau - he just patted his head and motioned to keep going.

"We are training an army, not a bunch of hooligans."

"Hooligans my shebs, they're kids!"

"Udesii, Kal." Mij patted his shoulder warningly, enough that he felt it even through the worn bathana jacket. "Walon, what he does with his ad'ike is none of your business. Now usen'ye before you disturb the kids." He suddenly grinned. "Or, you could join in with Delta, and paint it to whatever shade you prefer. Your choice."

For a brief second Walon's eyes narrowed, but he merely shook his head with distaste.

"Delta! Get over here and show them how to properly paint a wall - that's an order!"


End file.
